


Not Empty Handed

by Alien8ed



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Bartenders, Eventual Smut, Gay, Gay Bar, Hook-Up, M/M, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-23 23:13:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15617124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alien8ed/pseuds/Alien8ed
Summary: Harper, a 20 year old, tries to fake his way into a bar for alcohol. It doesn't go quite as planned, but at least he didn't leave empty handed.I'd call this porn with plot, but there's probably gonna be more plot by the time I finish this.This series is updated every two weeks.





	1. Chapter 1

Harper darted through the crowded streets, heading towards a small bar. A hand pulled the navy blue cap lower over his face, covering the dark irises that glinted with determination and mischievous intent. 

 

He could feel the boredom eating at his brain, for there was nothing to entertain him for the rest of the day, having already walked around the park and strolled through several shopping malls.

 

Hence, he decided to do a bit of law-breaking, just for the adrenaline rush, really. What’s wrong with a little bit of underaged drinking? Well, technically he only needed a few months before he could drink legally. But still, he was “underaged”. 

 

He walked closer to the door of the bar, only then noticing the bouncer in front. Well, that’s why he bought a fake ID, didn’t he? 

 

“ID, please.”

 

He gingerly held the card out, the bouncer plucking it from him to take a closer look. 

 

He held his breath.

 

After what seemed to be an eternity, the bouncer seemed to nod in approval, and handed it back to him before stepping aside to hold the door open. 

 

He stepped through the door, into the chilly, dimly lit...bar? 

 

That sign was rather misleading, really. This wasn’t just a bar. 

 

The place had pride flag coloured lights strung up absolutely everywhere, and in the centre was a number of pole dancers, surrounded by a crowd. 

 

Looks like this was a gay strip club. Well, that didn’t matter, he was here for the alcohol anyway. He headed towards the bar and took a seat farthest away from the commotion, wanting to have a quiet place to have a drink.

 

**“How may I help you today, sugar?”**

 

A deep voice greeted him, prompting him to look up at the bartender.

 

Damn, he was hot. He had brown hair swept to one side, framing his sapphire eyes that seemed to pierce through him. He was quite tall, about 6”4, and could easily be mistaken for a bouncer with his physique. Harper barely managed to order a French Martini without stuttering, unable to retain his composure.

 

**“One French Martini coming up!”**

 

The bartender grinned and began mixing his drink.

 

**“My name is Warren, and yours?”**

 

“I-I’m Harper, pleased to m-meet you.”

 

Warren had taken his eyes off the glass in front of him, and was looking right at him in the eyes, all the while still mixing the cocktail.

 

**“So, what brings you here, Harper?”**

 

“I...I was just bored, so I decided to stop by.”

 

**“That’s rare, the people who come here are usually here for the strippers, they don’t care much for drinks. As long as it gets them tipsy they’ll chug it.”**

 

He was still quite nervous, unsure if he was safe. Warren merely chuckled and slid him the finished drink, then straightened up to take a good look at the boy. His short, small frame, along with his dark skin made him resemble a clay doll, and looked just as fragile. Harper had taken off his cap, exposing ebony locks that fell across his amber eyes. How pretty those eyes were.

 

Harper could only stare back at him, feeling like a deer in headlights, caught with no escape. Yet somehow, he liked how he was being dominated by those sapphire eyes. He felt his heart thudding in his chest, his fingers gripping the hem of his jacket. That was odd.

 

Not wanting to make it awkward, he focused back on his drink to take a sip. The taller man also went back to serving other customers. He put the glass to his lips, feeling as if something was...off. There was the burst of raspberry mixed with pineapple, but it wasn’t quite right. Then it hit him. 

 

There was no alcohol in his drink. Not even a bit. What on earth…? He looked back up at the bartender, who caught his gaze and walked back over to him. 

 

**“So, how did you find your cocktail, Harper?”**

 

He purred, a triumphant smirk spreading across his face. Those sapphire eyes gazed into him once more, as he leaned up close to whisper in his ear.

 

**“A fake ID can’t fool us, you know? Your expression already shows you’re lying.”**

 

Harper scowled. Damn, he got busted.

 

“It wouldn’t matter in a few months anyway. I’d be 21 by then.”

 

**“21 is 21, Harper. No can do.”**

 

Warren tutted disapprovingly, followed up by a sudden chuckle.

 

**“You’re pretty bold for trying to pull that off. I like that.”**

 

He slid a server book across the counter top.

 

**“Anyway, here’s your bill.”**

 

The boy downed his (non-alcoholic) drink in one gulp, then handed him a twenty dollar bill.

 

“Just keep the change.”

 

However, the bartender pushed something into his hand anyway. As Harper left the building, he opened up his hand to see what Warren had given him.

 

It was a crumpled up slip of paper, with what was undeniably a phone number, underneath the words “give me a call or message sometime”.

 

Good to know that he didn’t leave empty handed. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I have a Tumblr called alien-8-ed, come send me writing prompts/requests!  
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/alien-8-ed

It had been a week since his failed attempt at sneaking into the bar, yet he still hadn’t dared to text or even call the number he had been given. What if it was a fake number? Surely such a good looking guy wouldn’t give him his number so easily. 

 

Well, it didn’t hurt to try. Harper glanced at the clock on his lock screen. Four thirty in the afternoon. Maybe he should wait a little while longer, he was probably still at work anyway. It would be rude to disturb.

 

His phone started to vibrate, showing an incoming phone call on the screen. The contact name displayed on the screen read “Fuckface Fucker”. Ah, here we go again. Looks like he wouldn’t get the chance to call Warren back today. He tapped on the answer button and put the phone to his ear, mustering the best British accent he could offer.

 

“Hello, this is Harper speaking.”

 

_ “Ah, good to know my lessons have stuck with you, boy. Anyway, I’ll need to to come over to my office, I have something to discuss with you. I’ll see you in 10 minutes. Understand?” _

 

“But father, I-”

 

**_“I said, do you understand?”_ **

 

“I...yes, father. I will be there soon.”

 

_ “Good. Have a nice day.” _

 

The line cut off, though it was apparent there was an undertone of disgust in his father’s voice. Whatever he wanted to discuss, it wouldn’t end well. Harper leaned back onto the chair, heaving a sigh. He really picked a bad time to make decisions, didn’t he? 

 

He stood up and went to change into a more suitable outfit, not wanting to anger his father even more by strolling in with his casual street wear. 

 

Harper donned a tuxedo, complete with a western bow tie. Not too over the top, but enough to keep up with household standards.He ended up calling a cab to take him to the family mansion, with just enough time for him to walk briskly down the polished wooden floors of the main hallway, stopping at the dark double doors of his father’s office. 

 

He took a deep breath, and knocked firmly on the door.

 

_ “Enter.” _

 

Harper pushed the door open, taking care to shut it gently behind him. The spacious office was surrounded by bookshelves, filled from top to bottom with countless volumes. 

 

_ “Ah, there you are, Harper.” _

 

The man sitting at a desk in the back of the office looked up. There was a smile on his face, but his eyes and his voice were cold and unwelcoming. 

 

That was what he could ever expect from his father, Quentin Cyphon. He was just a bastard child, an accident. He was nothing compared to him. The only thing that made a difference was the fact that he had his blood running through his veins, that he bore their family birthmark. Harper knew for a fact he was less than a son in his father’s eyes. He was only here out of his grandfather’s pity. 

 

“Good afternoon, father. What did you want to discuss with me?”

 

The man at the desk did not answer, the cold air blowing from the air conditioners seemed to deafen his words. He felt his spine stiffen in fear, leaving him standing in the cold room rigidly like an oddly placed statue. 

 

The silence was only broken by the rustling of a document being drawn from a large pile, which Cyphon tossed across the room, prompting Harper to catch it. He flipped through the pages, taking note of its chilling contents. 

 

It was a newspaper clipping with the heading  **“Mystery Man Seen Leaving Cyphon Mansions”** in bold letters, complete with a photo of him, leaving the mansion’s premises. Thank god his face was covered by his cap when the photo had been snapped. 

 

_ “You have forgotten what I had instructed you, thousands of times. Leave through the side door. Not the front, not the back. The side. And what did you do?” _

 

Quentin’s hand balled up into fists, slamming the desktop with force.

 

“I left through the front door.”

 

**_“_ ** _ Yes. _ **_You left through the front door._ ** _ Where all the paparazzi wait for anything to go in or out, so they can write _ **_bullshit_ ** _ like this!” _

 

“I’m deeply sorry for my mistake, fa-”

 

**_“An apology doesn’t cut it, boy. You’re already a disgrace in the family, yet you want to damage our reputation further?”_ **

 

He swallowed the urge to retort with sarcasm, shakily forcing out his words. 

 

“I have learnt my lesson, father. Forgive me.”

 

The older man merely shot a cold glance at him, then gestured for him to leave, turning back to his papers. His apology fell on deaf ears, there was nothing more he could do.

 

Thus, Harper bowed and quietly left the room. The butler standing in the hallway scoffed in his direction, the maids giggled and stared at him with mockery. Even they knew he was nothing compared to them. 

 

He picked up his pace, heading towards the side door. The north wing of the mansion was cold and dreary, where the lowest servants called home. The light from the windows seemed much dimmer compared to the rest of the mansion, as if it was a different place. He never stayed there for long, as it made him nervous, feeling as if the air could crush him. 

 

He approached the rusty iron door that would lead him out of this place, pushing the rusted bar back with force to unlock it and stumbling into the warm summer air. 

 

\-----

 

By the time he made it home, it was nearly six. He had chosen to walk the long way home, just so he could avoid staying near the mansion. He didn’t want anything worse to happen. 

 

The light was on in the kitchen, the scent of curry wafting through the tiny flat. 

 

“Mama, I’m home.” 

 

A woman with hair as dark as his own poked her head through the kitchen doorway, smiling warmly at him. 

 

“Welcome home, Harper.”

 

She looked at him up and down, her brows furrowing. 

 

“You visited your...dad?”

 

“Visited, more like summoned.”

 

Harper sighed. 

 

“Is he mad again?”

 

“He’s always pissed. I’m sick of his bullshit. Can’t even let me leave through the front door.”

He muttered, throwing himself onto the sofa. His mother’s expression saddened, but she had no words of comfort to offer her son. He was right. His father would never treat him fairly. She quietly withdrew into the kitchen to continue cooking their evening meal, leaving Harper alone in the living room.


End file.
